


When Friendship is Strongest (Analogical)

by mt_reade



Series: Sanders Sides Short Stories! [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Thanks, We need more friendship rep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_reade/pseuds/mt_reade
Summary: Virgil smiles and relaxes a bit, alternating his gaze between his coffee and the iridescent morning sky. “Remember that thing we used to say, best friends forever?” He whispers, and watches for Logan’s querying nod. Virgil sighs. “I guess I just never thought that the end of forever would come so soon.”
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Thomas Sanders/Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Sanders Sides Short Stories! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721833
Comments: 18
Kudos: 102





	When Friendship is Strongest (Analogical)

The sunrise is beautiful. The shades of yellow cascade over the roofs of the houses opposite and blend into soft pinks and purples that are all that remains of what the night once was. There are next to no clouds in the sky, but the ones that do pass by are light as wispy as if they’re doing all they can to be as quiet and non-disruptive as possible. They are soft and fluffy and pure. The air is cool, and there’s the gentle  _ drip drip  _ sound of morning dew slipping from the eaves of the house and onto the steps leading to the porch. On the porch sits Logan. He’s dressed, sitting on the top step with his hands wrapped around a white porcelain coffee mug, that’s tinted clementine under the colour of the sky. He’s watching the sunrise, as he likes to on Sundays. Logan is a bit of an early bird, and he really enjoys getting to spend some shared time with silence before the rest of the town wakes up. 

He listens to the faint sounds of birds whistling in a tree across the street somewhere, calling “Good mornings” to each other as they wake up under the warmth of the emerging sun. Logan runs a thumb across the rim of his coffee mug, before taking another sip. He’s got a couple extra cubes of sugar in it this morning, along with some vanilla extract. He feels the need for a little extra sweetness today, and the sweetness gets caught in his small smile as the sun pokes its head up from where it sleeps below the horizon. 

He hears the sound of the front door open and close quietly behind him, and there’s a dull shuffling of feet on the porch. 

“You’re up early.” Logan comments, taking another drink from his coffee. 

His roommate and best friend sits down beside him without a word. He’s still wearing his pyjamas underneath the jacket he’s thrown on. Virgil is holding his own cup of coffee, and he’s careful not to knock it as he settles on the step next to Logan, drawing his knees up to his chest. 

Virgil doesn’t actually end up responding to what Logan said. He normally wakes up much later than Logan on weekends, when neither of them have to get up for work. But, he knows Logan well enough to know exactly where to find him when he does happen to get up early. They’ve been friends since the eighth grade, and they’ve been inseparable since. A dynamic duo for the ages. So, they know basically everything there is to know about each other. They spent many school nights staying up texting each other, and many more poking fun at their mutual friend Roman at sleepovers. They used to sit next to each other on the bus every day on the way to and from their high school, and would share headphones. Eventually, Logan had found that Virgil’s music taste was quickly becoming his own, their identities morphing and growing together through the moments that they shared. 

They filled each other out so well, and Virgil honestly can’t think of anyone more important to him than his best friend. They’d moved out here together after university about four years ago, because it had mattered so much to the two of them that they stayed together. For Virgil, Logan is his rock. His stability. The closest thing that he’s had to family since moving out of his parent’s house. 

He enjoys the little life that they’ve built here, with Logan driving him to work every morning, and how they make weekly trips to the library together, and how they bicker over who’s turn it is to make dinner. Logan enjoys hearing Virgil’s music through his bedroom door, and how they complain about work and colleagues together. They both still wear the matching weaved friendship bracelets that Virgil had made them back in junior high, although they’ve both had to repair theirs a couple of times throughout the years. 

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking.” 

“Oh no.” Logan jokes, and he laughs a little when Virgil smacks him across the arm playfully. 

Virgil rolls his eyes, and then repeats himself. “ _ I’ve been thinking  _ about us.” He says. “We’ve been friends for almost fifteen years now, I realized.”

“Has it really been that long?” Logan asks. 

Virgil nods. “I’ve been thinking about that, and how there’s really no one else that gets me like you do, you know?” He tries to explain, watching the lights flick on in one of the windows across the street. The world is slowly rising with the sun. “You’re like my favourite person, and every time I think about the idea that one day we’re supposed to like, fall in love or whatever and move away from each other, I get kind of depressed.” Virgil takes another sip of his coffee. 

“That’s really kind of you, Virgil. You’re my favourite person too.” Logan says, pairing his smile with a glance towards his friend. “And there’s no need to worry about what will happen if we fall in love, because that’s in the future, and honestly I don’t remember the last time that I--”

“See that’s just the thing.” Virgil says. “I love  _ you _ .”

The morning stills around them, and Logan stops breathing. 

He looks over to Virgil with a bit of sadness visible through the lenses of his glasses. 

“Virgil…” He shakes his head slowly, and he looks guilty, apologetic. He chooses his next words very carefully. 

“I’m flattered, really. I care about you very deeply, but I’m sorry, I… I don’t harbour any romantic feelings towards you.”

Virgil’s eyes blow wide with alarm. He grabs Logan’s arm. “No,  _ no _ .” He shakes his head. “That’s not what I-- No. Sorry, I know how that sounded, but I meant I love you like, in a family way.”

“Oh, I see.” Logan says, as Virgil releases his arm. He turns back to the sunrise, which is now a rose-gold colour in the sky. The cherry blossoms on the tree in their front lawn dance in the breeze. “Well, in that case, I return your feelings. I love you as well. You are as much family to me as my biological relatives, if not more so.”

Virgil smiles and relaxes a bit, alternating his gaze between his coffee and the iridescent morning sky. “Remember that thing we used to say, best friends forever?” He whispers, and watches for Logan’s querying nod. Virgil sighs. “I guess I just never thought that the end of forever would come so soon.”

“Well, it’s not here yet.” Logan says, gently nudging Virgil’s shoulder with his own. 

“Yeah.” Virgil says. “I just like what we have, you know? I kind of don’t want it to end.”

Logan nods in agreement. “I am very happy here.”

“I don’t know what to do about it.”

They fall into a bit of a silence. Virgil doesn’t really know where he’s going with this. Normally, Logan helps him compile all of his discombobulated thoughts into concise words for him. He always seems to understand exactly what Virgil’s trying to get at, but this time, Virgil himself doesn’t have any idea what that is. He watches as the old married couple that lives across the street open their front door, and step out onto their driveway. They spot Logan and Virgil sitting there on their way to their car, and they smile brightly. They wave to them, and the pair on the porch are quick to send their own waves back in return. 

Logan watches them thoughtfully for a moment, as they climb into their car. “We could get married.” He suggests. 

Virgil, who’s mid-sip, almost spits out the coffee in his mouth. “ _ What _ ?” 

“Marriage is defined as a legally recognized union of two people who have a personal relationship intended to last for the remainder of their lives.” Logan recites simply, like he’s pulling it from the pages of the dictionary itself. He states it offhand, as if what he’s just implied isn’t the most ridiculous thing he could have, in that moment. He shrugs nonchalantly. “There’s no specification as to what type of personal relationship that has to be. It could be a strong platonic bond, as far as the law is concerned.” 

“Hold on just one second.” Virgil says, holding out a hand to stop Logan from delving deeper into a lecture. “Are you...  _ proposing _ to me right now?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

That doesn’t exactly answer Virgil’s question.

“I-I…”

“If we care this deeply about each other as friends, and you and I intend to stay here, in this town, away from our families… Marriage could be beneficial. It would allow us to combine our tax bills, which would likely lower them to a certain extent. Beyond that, healthcare and safety is a valuable contributing factor as well. If one of us were to be hospitalized, the other would be allowed into their room without question. Then, of course, there’s also--”

Virgil stops listening, because his brain has stopped processing. He can’t keep up with Logan’s rants at his mind’s finest hour, nevermind this early. It’s too early in the morning for Virgil to try to keep up, and it’s surely _ way _ too goddamn early for  _ whatever this is.  _

Then, Virgil notices that it’s suddenly gone quiet. He glances over at his counterpart, and sees that Logan is looking at him, expression expectant and open-ended. Logan’s waiting for him to answer some question. “I… um… sorry, what was that?”

“It makes sense, then?”

Virgil stares at him blankly. “...Getting married?”

Logan nods, still watching Virgil closely over the brim of his raised coffee mug. 

“I… guess, yeah?” Virgil is quick to look away, eyes training themselves on the sun that winks down at the pair from the sky. Virgil takes a long, distracting sip of his coffee, hoping to preoccupy himself. The sky is now the colour of bleeding heart flowers, and Virgil lets his gaze fall to his hands, that are gripping the white china mug like a lifeline. He sees the friendship bracelet that’s tied securely around his left wrist. It’s black, and meticulously strung with purple beads every seven rows of thread that had been weaved together by careful and cautious young fingers.

Virgil remembers the night that he made the bracelets. He had thought it was stupid, then. Friendship bracelets. He’d never been given one, and had never had the desire to make them before. He had never had someone to make them  _ for,  _ before then. Eighth grade, when Virgil had, somehow, amidst all of his dark loneliness, befriended a quiet boy with a blue bowtie that hid behind books too big to fit neatly in his backpack. On one of many sleepless nights, Virgil made the bracelets, with matching black thread. The beads he’d so delicately strung into Logan’s are blue like his bowtie; like the blue-turned skies of Virgil’s life after meeting someone who he hadn’t known then would be his best friend of all time. 

Virgil remembers hiding them in his pencil case the next day, because he had decided he wasn’t going to show them to Logan because friendship bracelets were stupid and childish. Virgil remembers how Logan had found them unintentionally, by accident, when he’d decided to help himself to Virgil’s pencil sharpener. Virgil remembers the way Logan’s eyes smiled when Virgil had explained himself, and how he’d put it on without hesitation, and how suddenly the bracelets didn’t seem stupid anymore. 

Virgil reaches over, and tugs on one of the purple beads on his bracelet, watching as it refuses to budge in it’s bond to the thread. When the bead is lifted, so is the thread that surrounds it. Where the one goes, the other follows. 

Virgil’s eyes flicker over to Logan, who has the warm sunrise captured in the reflection of the lenses in his glasses. He then looks back down at his hand, and sees his bracelet next to Logan’s, who wears his on his right arm, which is resting on his knee. Their bracelets rest loyally side-by-side, just as they do. 

They’ve been quiet for a while. 

Virgil takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes trained on the friendship tokens. 

“Logan?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are we engaged?” He asks, small and quiet. It’s reflective of the voice of a young boy who normally sits alone, that’s finally worked up the courage to ask to sit with the quiet nerd with the blue bowtie at lunch. He chances a glance up at Logan. 

Logan’s shrug is small and shy. “Would you like us to be?”

Virgil thinks about it for a moment, draining the last of his coffee, that’s still warm and comforting. Logan makes the best coffee. 

“I think I would.” 

Logan’s eyes smile, just like they did when he’d found out that he’d made a friend. They smile again now, when he finds out that he’s found a lifetime in that very friend. “Alright, good. We’ll order rings this afternoon.”

The rings they end up choosing are slim, made of weaved pieces of silver that braid together like thread. There’s a single gemstone secured in the centre of each, Virgil’s a lilac and Logan’s an ocean. The stones are the colours of the beads on their respective friendship bracelets.


End file.
